Elusion

Chapter 115

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Harry was tossed roughly onto the cold hard dungeon floor and he realized with a shudder that Dumbledore had apparated them to the space where he'd had him whipped.

He closed his eyes and curled up because despite the adrenaline flowing through his blood, he wanted Dumbledore to consider him weak. He wanted him to underestimate him and let his guard down. And that's exactly what happened when Dumbledore leaned down and grabbed him by the hair,

"Are you ready for one last lashing, Harry?"

He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the right moment and then it presented itself when Dumbledore dragged him back up to his feet and stood barely an inch away from him,

"I am fairly certain that you shall not survive it this time."

He took that as his moment to strike and gave it all he had to conjure up that darkness and wrap it around Dumbledore. Dumbledore fought it with all he had, and Harry's felt his will crumbling under Dumbledore's resistance. Voldemort's face swam in front of his eyes and it was the only thing that lent him the strength to keep Dumbledore restrained as he reached forward and snatched the wand from his hand.

The wand felt warm between his fingers but he didn't feel that sense of ownership over it yet. He allowed the darkness to vanish as he trained the wand on Dumbledore and spoke,

"You're wrong, Dumbledore…You're so wrong…I'll survive…I'll survive just like I did the last time…"

Dumbledore stared at him with nothing but venomous contempt and Harry could practically see the cogs turning in his head,

"You cannot use the wand, Harry."

He laughed loudly and snapped his fingers. The sword appeared in his hand,

"I don't need a wand. I will take my sweet time tormenting you."

Dumbledore laughed darkly,

"But that is the one thing that you so sorely lack…time…"

He swung the sword and Dumbledore's screams echoed around the space as he chopped off his right hand. He repeated that with his left and when Dumbledore was writhing on the floor, thrashing in his own blood, he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply when he felt the wand connect to some part of him. He was sure he still wouldn't be able to use it but he'd gained his purpose. Taking out the cloak from his jacket, he pulled it over his shoulders and made a shallow cut on the palm of his hand with the sword. Taking a deep breath, he began to chant the incantation that Deus had taught him,

"In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis….
In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis…
In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis…"

His breath stuttered several times during the entire ritual but he kept at it until he collapsed on his knees. When he looked up death stood inches away from him, its wings were stretched open and its eyes glowed ominously,

"Try as you may, you shall not succeed."

He ignored it and continued chanting the incantation over and over again until the hallows began to glow. He could feel death advance towards him and he closed his eyes. When his head hit the ground and he felt his throat closing up, he felt all his hopes shattering.

When he opened his eyes he found himself curled up in a pit that he could not hope to scale. Though he know there was light at the top it felt a million miles away,

"You are mine now, Harry James Potter."

He closed his eyes again, not bothering to deny that statement because he knew…he knew that death was right. He'd been defeated…He'd lost…

The despair was a heady blackness; the ways forward he had thought possible had vanished to black, not blocked, but like they were never there at all. The notion of hope had become meaningless, if his mind should linger on such ideas they started to feel like cruel tricks, as cruel as any desert mirage. The bonds that were tying him to life, the ones that kept his heart beating, felt so thin… so frail…so ready to snap…

"You have been an worthy adversary but now I have conquered you. Give in now…Rest…"

That sounded so tempting. He was about to oblige when a very familiar warmth enveloped him. Soft lips pressed against his temple,

"No, Harry…No…Don't give up…"

Rabastan pulled his head into his lap and showered him in kisses,

"What did I tell you about losing hope, Harry?"

He kept his eyes closed and fisted Rabastan's robes,

"I tried…I tried and I failed...I can't fight anymore, Rabi…I'm out of time."

Rabastan cupped his face and tiled his head,

"Look into my eyes…Look at me…"

He opened his eyes hesitantly and met Rabastan's steady gaze,

"Have you given up on avenging me? Will you allow death to take you as well?"

He shook his head and Rabastan smiled brilliantly,

"You will make it, Harry. I love you."

He pulled Rabastan's head down over his and kissed his lips, softly, tenderly…taking as much strength as he needed from the kiss before pulling away. Rabastan kissed his forehead and murmured against his skin,

"The last enemy to be abolished is death."

He raised himself into a sitting position and Rabastan chanted,

"In morte sua O consecrat, dona mihi immortalitatis. Fac me dominus mortis."

He closed his eyes and chanted with him over and over again and then it happened. He saw a blinding white illuminate everything from under his lashes and rose to his feet. When he opened his eyes, he saw Death took several steps away from him and he advanced closer,

"Kneel to your master,

He felt Rabastan's arm wrap around his waist and his lips on the back of his neck. His grin widened and he ordered,

"KNEEL!"

Everything obliterated to black as death knelt at his feet and dropped its wings in a sign of perfect submission.